Middlebury register. (Middlebury, Vt.) 1886-1937, 1887-06-10
THE N0TEWARE HOUSE.

Long years ago, a child, l lived for a
time in a town whose envirOns | learned
to know well, in many a long ramble
thereabouts. with the father of my
mother. who was a man much given to
the study of nature. BY far the most of
our tramps followed for the first part
of our route. a street that led out of the
town to become road. when it had
dipped over steep plunging hill. Then
traversng a wide glade that was almost
plain. between forest land on either
side. this road again ran with a long,
gradual ascent toward the blue. glooming
sides of Pilot Knob
AT distance of some four miles from
the town, to the right of the road. and
several hundred yards distant therefrom,
stood house that has always seemed to
me typical abode of weird dreariness
and i'll omen. 1t was large. squarish
structure of rich brown stone and, as
now know, it had some architectural pre-
tensions. | remember that my grand
father was wont to scan its proportions
with approving eye. although it needed
all my pertinaciOus persuasions to induce
him to tarry near the spot. which. sooth
to say, had a wonderful fascination for
me. There was no fence about the
grounds. though here and there a splin-
tered post told where had run the in
closing line. whose timber had bee
carried away by foragers in the then
comparatively recent civil war; or else by
the predatory negro population.
In all this slow lapse of years, with
any reference to abandoned human
habitation. lonely and forbidding, nv
thought has always flown swiftly back to
the Noteware mansion, silent and grew
some on its little upland Not long ago.
from the descriptive bits of detail in my
frequent illusions to this house. and from
an ill drawn little sketch of my own
from memory. a clever artist friend, i'm
pressed by the persistence with which the
picture haunted me, painted it, adapting
to it the surroundings of Tennyson's
"Marana. The accuracy of the work
was wonderful. perfect, it seemed to me.
in every detail. and it composed so well
that THE Moated Grange" was the focus
of attention at the art exhibit where it
was placed. For myself | never tired of
studying the picture. which seemed to
me to have some esoteric. supernatural
charm. the fascination of the mysterious
and dread, and as l spent before it all of
my leisure time, l had opportunity to
discover that others than myself had felt
the spell
Thus sitting there alone, one dav. at
an hour when the gallery was little fire.
quented. ! was reused from long reverie
by the sound of deep, sobbng sighs and
turning, saw a woman of more than mid
die age, CARRIED in deep black, and with a
face whose strong. forcible lineaments
indicative of deep passions and intense
affections We're limned heavily by the
mighty hand of sorrow. whose strokes
are most unfailingly skillful in indicating
their origin. The woman's bright black
eyes. deep set and somewhat strained in
gaze, were fixed upon the picture with
agonlZed concentration. The thin. firm
lips of her large mouth. whose normal
expression must be of resolution were
piteously tremulous now, and her hands
were clasped so tightly that the gloves
she held were torn across.
at is the same. she murmured; 1.-THE
same house, sinister and doomed-the
grave of hopes and loves the scene of
ruin and blood. Yes. O nv God! even
on canvas the blood stains will appear!'
She staggered and fell back as if faint
ing. l caught her, and as well as |
could sustained her heavy frame. easing
1t back against the row of benching along
the room; but even with the woman in
my arms | could not forbear casting a
glance upon the picture-a glance that
made me shudder. The artist had
painted with conscientious regard for
detail, and, for greater effect, had chosen
If off Il Of or
Breaking through lurid clouds, the Grim
son sun looked out on the somber scene.
and the red light was reflected in pools of
water before the great main entrance,
and in irregular, broken lines that
marked the roadway to the door. Some
alteration had been made in the windows
of the gallery-a Stat of the blinds had
been turned or had dropped apart. and
long, slanting sun ray came in, and, fall
ing coincidcnt with that rain soaked ave-
nue., touched the REDEEMED pools that
CLEANED with smOOthness and transpa-
rency which gave them the resemblance
of palpable, fresh spilled blood.
The stranger presently and by degrees
recovered her composure to the extent
that she was able to inquire the source of
the picture that had so affected her Il
have right to he curious about it, she
said; my name is Dinah Noteware.
1t is useles, to chronicle the absorption,
amounting To almost mania, which con-
tinued to be inspired in her by the paint
ing, which work she eventually purchased
and carried away, insisting on paying an
excessive price. Suffice it to record here
the history of the original house-a his
tory so sad and shocking in its tragic de-
tails that | readily understood why it
should have been suppressed from me as
a nervous, excitable child already unduly
impressed by the uncanny aspect of the
theatre of those deplorable occurrences.
Miss Noteware had been southern
woman, but on marrying a northerner
she had emancipated the slaves, who con-
stituted large share of her patrimony,
and the newly welded pair emigrated to
the west, making for themselves home